


you don’t say a single word, of your last two years

by lilaclavenders



Series: 'til we have faces [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Some Plot, Viktor is barely mentioned whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 15:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaclavenders/pseuds/lilaclavenders
Summary: Mari was never anything out of the ordinary, accepting her role as the eldest sibling with her inherited responsibilities.Minako-sensei talks about Yuuri as if she already knows him and is just seeing an old friend again. She talks about the world being graced by a divine presence, as she fondly recounts the time she visited a cathedral in Barcelona that one time, four years ago, and had a vision.“But that’s silly,” Mari says. “He doesn’t say anything, he just kicks Okaa-san’s stomach!”Minako hums in thought, nodding along with her. “Perhaps not, but there are other ways of talking.”





	you don’t say a single word, of your last two years

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from: he doesn't know why - fleet foxes
> 
> this is just focusing on mari, i guess? if you have any questions please ask me???
> 
> thank u, ily all.

i)

Yuuri Katsuki was born on a winter's evening, and took many winters beforehand to chase down the beginnings of Viktor Nikiforov into this specific timeline, universe and corner of Yuuri's mind (Whatever, wherever, whoever that is.)

 _Please_ , Katsuki Yuuri says-

_He isn't Katsuki Yuuri just yet._

_Heed our warnings, dear brother! You can change your mind if you wish-_

_We can give him everything a human could ever need! We can give you what you want: his happiness!_

_But what if it's him, the thing he wants? What if it's Viktor Nikiforov? What can we do then?_

_But Viktor Nikiforov now knows nothing, and it can stay that way!_

_I can morph a statue of stars, with his hair and eyes-_

_Why, with his apparent lack of intelligence it will be practically the same!_

_Please!_ Katsuki Yuuri begs, clinging onto the earth and her sea. _Watch over him while he looks for me, as a debt repaid._

_How could we possibly repay you for all you've done, brother? We may not agree with this, but we will help you as you've helped us._

_Besides, we all came from the one and the same._

_(You.)_

_Although whether Viktor Nikiforov cooperates is not in our hands - he's yours and does not belong chained to the ground or tides. He is the man of the heart._

"God bless you," Katsuki Yuuri breathes out; it is neither wind or fire, but rather the way the sun starts to shine over a village in Japan.

_We need not your blessing, for you have done what most are too selfish to do._

"Gods are supposed to be kind, loving and everything else," Yuuri mutters, nervously. "Aren't they?"

_Is a loving god always kind? Katsuki Yuuri, do you need a reminder?_

Yuuri visits one of the very first shrines made for him, a little temple adorned with dozens of homemade candles. He finds himself in the outskirts of Kyushu and dancing around the weathered cobblestones of Hasetsu.

Little Hasetsu, rocked in a constant state of sleep because the sea seems to love her so much - hiding in an eye of a hurricane - sings a lullaby of waves hushing the rest of the world away and sends her children home in time for supper, by eventually pushing them back to land. Back before the sun and moon, sea and the stars start to argue about who gets to admire her.

"Please, God, whoever you are, all I want is a child who can see the world where I cannot. I want a child who will cherish their mother the way I will cherish, unconditionally and eternally," Katsuki Hiroko whispers, after a solemn trip to the hospital. "I want to make this world brighter through them, since my place and world is here."

Katsuki Yuuri splits himself up again, something he's used to doing, and gives Hiroko two babies with her eyes and her husband's laugh.

ii)

真 - the Katsuki siblings: bright and intelligent.

_Truth, Katsuki Mari. You must not blind yourself to the truth, even if you were the arm that created the fundamental truths to the universe._

_(What can be considered truth anymore? No one cares if a triangle has 3 sides if they do not know its name.)_

Katsuki Mari and her arms are chubby, clinging to her Mother the way any other child can. She’s 6 years old and bumps into things a lot.

“Mari- _chan_ ,” Hiroko huffs, her face red. She’s in a lot of pain but she can’t show it.“You’re so _brave_ \- now, could you be a little more brave for me and stay in the onsen for a while with Minako- _sensei_?”

Little Mari nods, wrapping her arms around her Mother’s stomach. She’s careful and gentle, emulating her Mother’s soft touches whenever Mari herself is in pain.

Minako- _sensei_ talks about Yuuri as if she already knows him and is just seeing an old friend again. She talks about the world being graced by a _divine presence_ , as she fondly recounts the time she visited a cathedral in Barcelona that one time, four years ago, and had _a vision_.

“But that’s silly,” Mari says. “He doesn’t say anything, he just kicks Okaa- _san_ ’s stomach!”

Minako hums in thought, nodding along with her. “Perhaps not, butthere are other ways of talking.”

(And then a 27 year old Prima Ballerina sticks her tongue out at a 6 year old child.)

 

iii)

_Courage, Katsuki Yuuri. To win, Katsuki Yuuri. You are very hopeful, even though you are the one who spun this tragic tale where you live and bleed._

_But I have no idea how it ends- If it ends or continues_ , Yuuri wonders. _Bravery never counts for anything if you're the only one who gets out alive, does it?_

_But perhaps being able to survive and live on, with knowledge no one should have, is what bravery is._

Anyway, Katsuki Yuuri was born on a winter’s evening, in sleepy Hasetsu, to a woman who prays for her children more than the Gods - but that’s quite alright. He will grow up in an onsen, accustomed to the warmth the springs offer, as well as the warmth Hasetsu’s children bestow upon him. He'll adjust himself to his creation once more, becoming the right person for his heart.

(Meanwhile, Viktor Nikiforov is four years old and dances for the first time, with sharpened blades underneath his feet. His hair and skin is so pale that he might as well have been part of the ice. He learns to fall for the very first time.)

Now, he is two siblings, a girl and a boy. She is the arm that guided the stars into birth, and he is the mind that paints their explosion and the idea of the birth.

_Katsuki Mari, whoever you are, are you willing to take on such a task?_

Mari was never anything out of the ordinary, accepting her role as the eldest sibling with her inherited responsibilities. She'd recklessly bleached her hair, pierced her ears and developed a smoking addiction all by the age of 20. Her life has never been as grandiose as Viktor Nikiforov's or her brother's, but she has countless memories that shine brighter than any gold medal could. She's taken her inherited responsibilities, in the shape of her family onsen and her brother's reckless habit of pushing himself so far out-

_He forgets he's in a human body._

_But Katsuki Mari, your Yuuri has the eldest responsibilities. But you have the responsibility of making sure he can survive a world bigger than his human body, smaller than his not-so-human heart._

Mari always noticed that the way her brother smiles is a practiced little thing, an exact copy of her mother's welcoming embrace and her father's hearty charisma. He seems to absorb different characteristics from different people, such as the way his mother never hesitates to do the right thing, even if no one's watching, or his father's lighthearted wisdom, oddly befitting of a man who's had to pick himself back up one too many times. He calls it  _trying to fit in through osmosis_. But he seems to pick up everything, from pirouettes and arabesques to personality traits as if he were reacquainting himself with old friends and justifying his own place among them.

For all she knows, he cares too much, like a King who seems to have given himself the responsibilities of a God, quietly rejecting the powers that come with it. Yuuri isn't arrogant in the traditional sense, but is stubborn to a point where being _too_ sure of himself is almost arrogant. 

Mari wonders what traits she's given to her little brother.

_Watch over him as we watch over you, Katsuki Mari. He has lost sight of his real self and we cannot bear to watch him fall again._

_(Use your arms to soften the blow.)_

_To think, he now refers to himself as a human first, then creator. Humans aren't creators, they're just arrogant._

Mari knows Yuuri has a way with words. 24 years simply cannot have been enough for all he has to say - what about all the words he has yet to say? What about all the words in his mind and the ones he will never say? It is said that Sappho wrote thousands upon thousands of lines, but only a few hundred have survived. Perhaps it is best to let some things remain untouched, forbidden to become unearthed by those who cannot comprehend her words.

_He's weaved letters through rings of fire, breathes destinies into stars and flesh without ever uttering a sound. Making poetry with words and worlds is simple to him, he's made this earth the way she should be, after all!_

_And you are crafted with a specific role in his life, Katsuki Mari - do not forget! A life touched by him is an eternity touched for you. If he writes, you can guide him, his story and his ending._

It is said that there is always a part of an artist that can be found in all of his paintings; the world created Katsuki Yuuri, in the way whoever _he_ may be created Katsuki Yuuri. There is no accreditation given to the arm of an artist, but their mind will always be praised until kingdom come.

"You may learn from a teacher, but it is best to learn from your students," Yuuri’s old ballet teacher declares, holding her sake up as if she were saluting some unknown force up above. "Isn't that right, Yuuri?"

_That woman may have travelled the seas, but Katsuki Yuuri's the one who gave them the ability to move._

_She's only refreshing his memory on a dance he's started - memories are precious things._

_We do not understand, but he no longer wishes to dance alone. Okukawa Minako, thunderstorms in the sky, seems to know the ravaging weather heartbreak causes to a sky when it realises it._

_You aren't alone, Katsuki Mari. Neither is he. You see, the problem is not his mind, but his heart. (Or where it has gone.)_

Yuuri laughs, but his mouth does not curve into a smile. Sat lazily on a Tatami mat, Yuuri gazes upwards at Minako but Mari can't help but feel that he seems to be more powerful, in some divine manner. 

"Ah, oh dear." Minako murmurs, voiced tinged with sake. "I must be a bit too intoxicated, even for my standards."

Somewhere in that was an apology and a plea, begging for forgiveness on behalf of a human flaw that should've been easy to control. Somewhere was Minako Okukawa, a woman who's faced monsters in the shape of pressures, as a Prima Ballerina should, backing down in the face of her little brother - a boy with emotions like water, hard to hold in one place, slipping through his fingers. Who knows where his mind will lead him.

Mari finds it strange that Yuuri seems to be well versed in the art of duality - being a anxious performer is just scratching the surface. He uses far too many words on a question that requires one and seems to weave in and out through different conversations with the same person.

_Katsuki Mari, don't you know? Your Yuuri built Minako Okukawa's stage before she even knew its name, gave ballet the reputation of poetry in motion. A Prima Ballerina only tells a story to her audience, and doesn't create a completely brand new one._

"It's alright, Minako- _sensei_ ," Yuuri insists, placing a heavy emphasis on the suffix with a flat tone; Mari releases a single note of laughter at her brother's passive aggressiveness. He shakes his head in some form of forgiveness and softly asks, "Why not tell us about your _Benois de la Danse_ again?"

Minako's past has always been tenuous subject; regardless, she sits up, belly full of alcohol, warmth and pride. "Well, I met this wonderful young man in Paris, France..."

_France, America, Russia - The mere thought of the potential distances your Yuuri can cover are further than your countries and little minds can ever be traveled through._

_Do not let your eyes deceive you! Katsuki Mari, your arms are stronger than you'll ever know. They cannot make you fly, but they can carry your Yuuri to places he never realised existed, even under his careful eye. You can let him see the truth behind why things cannot always come to be._

_Help him remember that he cannot wait for things to happen, as you cannot produce something out of nothing._

Mari watches Yuuri intently, the way his irises seem to change colour in the light, a melting bronze of heavens. She wonders which parent he got them from. (She wonders if her eyes have ever looked like that.)

"I'm going to bed," Yuuri says, with a fatigue of a man, who's been alone his whole life, could only have. It doesn't make sense; he's had family and friends around him his entire life, a whole audience watching him skate since he was 12. He asks with gentle authority, "Mari, keep Minako- _sensei_ company?"

God, it's as if Yuuri's been eclipsed for five years and has just returned. He may be back, but the light hasn't quite come back yet - the moment where she needs to readjust her eyes to his bright light hasn't arrived yet.

Minako sits there, weary. Her eyes are grey and seem to constantly shift depending on the angle the candlelight shifts around her face. Her irises almost seem green, something warmer. Her ballet studio's seen more days closed than open as of late and her limbs are starting to become restless. Her ankle only seems to give way in the winter, buckling unexpectedly; her heart gives her no such luxuries, repeatedly breaking the same way it did all those years ago. They say the bone is never the same after it breaks, marred by that slight moment of weakness - an overly-ambitious woman who flew too close to the sun, in love with the way it made her shine; it's perplexing, the thought of the sun taming this storm of a woman.

"Yuuri," Mari says. "Where the hell has he been?"

_Okukawa Minako, that enigma of a woman. She's all of Yuuri's severity and overly-ambitious qualities._

_No one ever choses a thunderstorm as their favourite type of weather, Katsuki Mari. Yet, your Yuuri made her because he could._

"He's always been here," Minako says, her hand trailing over to her temple, fingers tapping on it coyly. "He's a big part of me, that boy."

"But didn't you teach him?"

_Katsuki Mari, such a hypocrite! You care much more than you let on, you're one of the same. You may be the guiding arm, but your Yuuri has left his fingerprints everywhere, crafted everything you know with his bare hands._

"Sure I did," Minako replies, lazily swirling the remains of her sake. She raises her eyebrows and loudly whispers, as if she were telling a poorly kept secret. "But surely you'd know most about how he seems to give away parts of himself to everyone?"

"I thought he usually took a little part of everyone, like blending in," Mari responds in surprise.

_But you wonder, Katsuki Mari, didn't her ankle give way? Before your Yuuri ever took a step outside of this little house?_

_Okukawa Minako, whoever she is, suffered in order to warn him, that a broken ankle is nothing compared to a broken heart when it comes to survival._

_Broken ankles, broken hearts - it's all the same! She never walked the same after that!_

"You're a wonderful sister," a retired ballet dancer says. She grabs Mari's hand and wistfully sighs, "You've helped him grow in so many ways. Like you've tested the waters and survived to tell the tale."

_Katsuki Mari, your soul is made with the first fires of creation, the first,first,first-_

_Your Yuuri has always been good at falling, have you realised?_

_Fall, fall, fall-_

Mari remembers a lot.

_(Mari knows Yuuri is a clumsy child, but it breaks her heart a little bit whenever she sees him hurt, no matter how many times she's told him not to run around in the onsen._

_"Yuuri," she says, gently cradling a god injured in his 8 year old body. "Falling over hurts, right?"_

_Yuuri sniffles, his cheeks and nose almost as red as the blood on his knees. He nods, his breath shaky and tears and snot making little streams down his face._

_"You have to fall - that's how you learn from things," Mari says, nodding so Yuuri nods along with her. She's just read about Icarus, but cannot quite make the connection to Yuuri. She decides to settle on Yuuri being the sun, for now._

_Yuuri whines, in the same way any mildly injured 8 year old would. "But it hurts!"_

_Mari tries not to laugh at her younger brother. She strokes his soft hair, tousled by his fall. "If you fall earlier, you'll get used to it and it won't hurt so bad in the future. You'll know for next time."_

_Yuuri frowns, not convinced._

_Mari huffs in laughter. "You're brave, Yuuri. Come on, be brave for me a little while longer, okay?"_

_"Why?"_

_8 year olds ask too many questions before trying to figure out if they know the answer already._

_"Well, it's usually what happens next that hurts the longest."_

_Yuuri gets himself worked up again and starts wailing again, burying his head into Mari's shirt; she ignores the damp sensation of snot and tears and lets him tuck himself into her arm as she partially carries him to the kitchen._

_"It's okay," Mari says, "Do you want me to tell you about the big scar on my arm?")_

Watching her brother falling has always been a painful experience - but it was always something that happened in a matter of seconds.

But Mari's watching him fall, it's happening so slowly that she has no idea when she can catch him.

And the aftermath of any fall is always longer than the fall itself. You wonder how deep a cut is or if a bone's been snapped, or how Orpheus was eager to see Eurydice, or how long Patroclus wept for Achilles.

_Viktor Nikiforov - he's been in your life for so long that you practically know him. Tell me, Katsuki Mari, do you think you remember when your Yuuri started falling?_

_Katsuki Mari, when was the last time you've picked him up from a fall?_

_Protect him from the fall._

This time, Katsuki Mari is just a 30 year old innkeeper's daughter with a smoking addiction. She's never left Hasetsu, but it feels like she's already been all around the world. Besides, she doesn't feel like it's her purpose to leave. 

"Mari," Hiroko calls from the distance. "Can you check up on Yuuri?"

Minako huffs, releasing a small bout of laughter. "You'll always be his older sister, no matter how old he is."

_You can change your mind if you wish!_

Mari can hear a voice quite like her own as she knocks on her younger brother's door. She does not have Yuuri's worldliness, observance or consideration, but she's lived with him, supported and guided him. Hiroko wished for children to love unconditionally and eternally, but eternally implies that Mari had loved Yuuri before he was ever a boy from Hasetsu.

 _Though it does makes sense_ , Mari realises. They are both their Mother's children, a God's creation and the atoms from stars dead long ago - one and the same.

_But what if it's him, the thing he wants? What if it's Viktor Nikiforov? What can we do then?_

What can Mari do, if she can only stand there and watch her brother fall?


End file.
